Under the Volcano

entry picture

 

on a road out of London pulled up at a pub

heard him say the words I remember, today.

the drinking man suffers: glug, glug, glug

the drinking man loves: glug, glug, glug

taste of whiskey, craic,  all that convivial shite

he remembers, truly remembers - he's a creature of the night

searching for the resurrection of a moment of lost content

 he rumbles all the lying, of his friend

 drinks a drink or two or twenty

hever counts, just say 'plenty'

aligned with the rhythm of a 12-bar blues:

booze

he's seen his way to AA, up on the Finchley road,

but had to confess,

he loved too much the sparkle of laying on a load

he dances in his head too much,

jives with the sun,

and after all the music

 poetry has begun

 

 

 

◄ Icelight

A small truth ►

Comments

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Mindy Newton

Tue 9th Jul 2019 12:30

I especially liked the last stanza here.
The song is a delight. Story holds onto you, but really, take that voice and music, and the words could be anything!

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